xat's blog: "my poetry"

this poem
won't make a difference
it will fall to the floor
between us in our gentle dance
us alone, together in the vacant space
spinning on checkered floors
in dimly lit ballrooms
nostalgic illusions of romantic grandeur
that will never be
anything but this poem
this simple, simple poem

this poem
will never say the words
the magic incantations
that will keep you by my side
divine proportions of sentence
of verb, pronoun, & adjective
spoken to walls
recited to air
fruitless & desperate rehearsals
in search of the words to say
to be the poem that this poem
can never be

this poem
won't save us
it won't do anything
but sit quietly
in a room somewhere
& be read perhaps
every other year
when a hint of you slips in
to kiss the memory of me





mary